|The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from The Country of the Pointed Firs by Sarah Orne Jewett:
be the Joannas in this world, an' 'twas her poor lot."
On Shell-heap Island
SOME TIME AFTER Mrs. Fosdick's visit was over and we had returned
to our former quietness, I was out sailing alone with Captain
Bowden in his large boat. We were taking the crooked northeasterly
channel seaward, and were well out from shore while it was still
early in the afternoon. I found myself presently among some
unfamiliar islands, and suddenly remembered the story of poor
Joanna. There is something in the fact of a hermitage that cannot
fail to touch the imagination; the recluses are a sad kindred, but
|The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from Resurrection by Leo Tolstoy:
holy water in his hand, and, not noticing Katusha, brushed her
with his surplice. Evidently he brushed against Katusha through
wishing to pass Nekhludoff at a respectful distance, and
Nekhludoff was surprised that he, the clerk, did not understand
that everything here, yes, and in all the world, only existed for
Katusha, and that everything else might remain unheeded, only not
she, because she was the centre of all. For her the gold
glittered round the icons; for her all these candles in
candelabra and candlesticks were alight; for her were sung these
joyful hymns, "Behold the Passover of the Lord" "Rejoice, O ye
people!" All--all that was good in the world was for her. And it
|The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from The Secret Sharer by Joseph Conrad:
he advanced his head close to mine and thrust his tongue out at me
so suddenly that I couldn't help starting back.
After scoring over my calmness in this graphic way he nodded wisely.
If I had seen the sight, he assured me, I would never forget it as long
as I lived. The weather was too bad to give the corpse a proper sea burial.
So next day at dawn they took it up on the poop, covering its face
with a bit of bunting; he read a short prayer, and then, just as it was,
in its oilskins and long boots, they launched it amongst those mountainous
seas that seemed ready every moment to swallow up the ship herself
and the terrified lives on board of her.
"That reefed foresail saved you," I threw in.
The Secret Sharer